French Perfume
by lumaluma
Summary: After a long voyage at sea, Captain Arthur Kirkland makes a stop at a small Normandy port to visit a certain Frenchman he hasn't seen for quite some time. FrUk/UkFr.


_This little one-shot is something I wrote a little while ago, when I was in the mood for some FrUk that wasn't hate-filled and angry. Enjoy!_

_And if you see any grammar or spelling mistakes, let me know so I can fix them!_

* * *

The wind howled through the streets of the small Normandy port when Captain Arthur Kirkland's ship docked that night, the fall air cold and biting. Her hold full of spices, silks, and other riches from the East, the ship was a grand sight. She was tall and sturdy, an ornate figurehead adorning her front, the sails never tattered or torn. After all, this was Her Majesty's finest trading vessel.

Captain Kirkland rallied his men below deck, knowing the sailors were tired and eager to get off the ship. "All right lads, listen up! It's bloody cold out there, so find a place to stay tonight. There should be room enough at the inn, or you can always shack up with a couple ladies." He rolled his eyes when they tittered among themselves. "Yes, yes, you have my permission to be a little rowdy. But don't cause _too_ much trouble, you hear me? Anyways, we'll be leaving around midday tomorrow, so don't be late, or I'll dock your pay. It was bad enough waiting for some of you idiots in Shanghai after the brothel incident… don't let anything like that happen again! All right then, run along."

Then men all whooped and ran off, and Arthur smiled, shaking his head. Really, they were such boys sometimes. He went down to his quarters and found a small chest, checking its contents briefly. Full of silver, as it should have been. He had someone special to deliver this little box to. And before stepping out onto the deck of the ship, he pulled the brim of his hat low and tucked his face into the collar of his cloak against the chill of the wind. Only a sliver of his face was visible then, but his piercing green eyes peered through that gap, bright and mischievous.

He ignored the other sailors and townspeople who looked at him curiously as he walked through the streets of the town. The whores at the local brothel cooed and catcalled, but he just smirked and kept on walking. He didn't have any interest in them, after all, and there was only one person he wanted to see, _needed_ to see. And if things went his way, this night would be much more entertaining than what any of his men would experience in that whorehouse.

Arthur approached a small stone house on the far side of the town, hidden from the salty spray of the ocean and the wind. He smiled at the ever-blooming flowerbeds that surrounded it, always roses and lilies and fragrant, delicate flowers. The shutters were closed, but Arthur could see light shining through their wooden slats, and he knew someone was home. He didn't bother knocking, just opened the door and marched in announcing, "Oy, it's me."

"Arthur? So you're finally back from your voyage, yes?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't be here."

The man he was talking to laughed, flipping his long blond hair over his shoulder, leaning back in his chair. "And here I was hoping you were just paying me a friendly visit."

"Well, that's part of it, Francis. But I do have your payment."

"Ah, of course. Well, you know where to put it. I trust you made a good profit?"

"More than you'd expect. We sold every one of your products, and I've had requests from people in the Caribbean as well. I'll need a new shipment to take back to England with me, and we'll distribute it around the world again once we sell what we can in England."

"But of course! I'll have a shipment put together. When will you need it by?"

"Noon tomorrow, if that's possible."

"It shouldn't be a problem." Francis smiled, picking up a small vial of perfume. "You caught me at a good time, Arthur. I was about to go to bed, just testing this last one out. It's quite new, and I believe I may have finally perfected it. I very much enjoy it, at least." He took out the glass stopper and trailed a thin line across the underside of his wrist. "Notes of ginger, of absinthe, of musk… not for a lady, obviously."

"Do all of your scents have liquor in them?"

"Well, the ones for men, usually. We need that bit of harshness, _non?_"

"If you say so. You're the perfumer, after all, and I'm just a sailor."

"Mm, true. But you're no ordinary sailor, _mon cher_, are you?"

Arthur smiled, taking off his hat and dropping it on the table where Francis was working. "If you say so. But I didn't come here just for business, Francis. Put me up for the night, will you?" He walked over to a trunk in the corner, pulling out a coffer and pouring the contents of his chest into it. "You're going to need another place to keep your money soon, if your customer base keeps growing like this."

"I know. But tell me, Arthur, why should I let you stay here?" he laughed quietly when Arthur shot him a glance that plainly said 'Do you really want to play this game tonight?'

He sighed. "Do a friend a favour, Francis. In return, I'll do whatever you like." He put the coffer back in the trunk and closed it up. "And I mean _anything_." He looked over at Francis from under his eyelashes, shooting him a smouldering glance and smiling just a bit, and Francis felt his heart speed up a bit in anticipation. Arthur was willing to go there, was he? Well, of course he was. This might turn out to be a pleasant evening after all…

But still, Francis didn't want to give in so easily. "I don't know what you mean by that, truth be told." He stood up and turned away, smiling to himself when Arthur sidled up behind him and kissed the back of his neck.

"Playing hard-to-get, are we? Francis, I'm offering you a fuck."

"Oh, but what if I don't do that kind of thing anymore? What if I've turned to god and changed my ways? Then what will you do?"

Arthur laughed quietly, resting a hand on Francis' hip. "I'm sure I could turn you back to corruption, you teasing bastard."

"Go ahead and try." And, to his credit, while Francis was expecting Arthur to feel him up one way or another, he wasn't prepared for the gentle fingers that turned his face to the side, the chapped, barely parted lips that dusted kisses along his jaw before finally landing on his own lips. He wasn't prepared for the way Arthur caressed his hair, so gently and carefully that he nearly trembled.

Francis could feel his pants begin to tighten when Arthur nudged his tongue past his lips, just playfully coaxing Francis' tongue to tangle with it. The Frenchman found one of his hands travelling to Arthur's shoulder, and they broke apart to breathe. "Your lips are dry," Francis murmured, running a finger over Arthur's lips. "And you're coated with sea spray. Shall I run you a bath?"

Arthur smiled, and Francis saw in his eyes that he knew he had won. The sailor nodded. "That would be lovely."

Francis already had water heating over the fire, though he had been planning it for his own bath, not for Arthur's. Well, his basin was large enough for two. Arthur helped him fill the basin with water, and Francis moved to undress him. He took Arthur's coat, running his fingers over a patch on the sleeve. "You ripped it."

"I know. I wasn't pleased by that either."

"A pity. Well, off with your clothes, _mon cher_." He stripped himself as well, getting a couple washcloths, towels, and a bar of soap out of his trunk. "I'm afraid we'll be sharing the bath tonight."

"You know that doesn't matter to me." Arthur slid into the water, immediately wetting himself down. Francis climbed into the tub, following suit. He soaped up his hands and motioned for Arthur to turn around. The captain leaned against the edge of the bath, giving Francis access to his back.

The Frenchman rubbed the soap over his lover's back, tracing a scar on his shoulder. "That's new as well. What kind of trouble did you get into _this_ time?" He sighed.

Arthur shifted a bit under his touch. "We had a bit of a run-in with the Spanish. They were after our cargo. We came off pretty well, obviously, but not without casualties. A little scar is nothing."

"Hm… if you say so." Francis soaped up Arthur's hair, filling the straw-blond locks with suds and scratching his scalp lightly.

Arthur sighed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, breathing in deeply. "Did you make this soap as well?"

"Why, yes. How can you tell?"

"It smells like one of yours. Mint and rose, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, that's correct." Francis pressed a kiss to Arthur's cheek. "You're learning. I'm proud of you."

"Tch. Even an uneducated sailor like me can tell that much." He dipped his head under the water, rinsing away the soap, and then turned to Francis. "Your turn."

Francis let Arthur wash him, surprised again by the sailor's gentle touch. He wasn't always this careful, this kind. There were times when Francis would find his touch bruising, almost near brutality, but it was no less arousing either way. If anything, he liked the way Arthur changed each time he visited. When he rinsed the soap off his body, Arthur's hands followed his, tracing his shoulder blades before slipping lower, down his back, and then down to stroke his arse. Francis smirked, slapping his hands away. "Not yet, you impatient man."

Arthur sighed, standing up, and Francis couldn't help but stare at him, from his wiry, finely defined muscles to his slightly thickened, half-hard cock. He looked away, standing up as well and hoping he wasn't nearly as aroused as he thought he was. He dried off; wrapping the towel around his hips, and took Arthur's clothes. "I'll wash these as well. I'm sure they're full of salt and sweat."

Arthur smiled. "You're quite right. Thank you, Francis."

When he had cleaned them and hung them near the fire to dry, Francis stepped back. "There we go. All done. Now, you said something about me putting you up for the night?"

Arthur stepped up behind him again, his chest against Francis' back, running his hands over the Frenchman's hips. "Yes, I did. And as always, you only have one bed here."

"Maybe you'll be sleeping on the floor, _cher_."

"Oh, I highly doubt that." Arthur pressed his groin up against Francis' arse, rubbing his hardening member against Francis.

Francis held firm, still wanting more. "Oh, really? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Come on, Francis. You know damn well you want this just as badly as I do." He nipped Francis' ear, sharp, gentle teeth catching the flesh just barely. He moved his hands up, running his fingers over Francis' nipples, and Francis was again struck by just how gentle he was being. This wasn't entirely normal for Arthur. The Englishman kissed Francis' neck, his hands skimming down Francis' chest to trace up and down the trail of hair leading under his towel. "Well, what do you say?"

"I'm not quite convinced yet…"

"Believe me, I'm not even halfway done yet." Arthur placed his lips next to Francis' ear, his eyes glimmering in the firelight, and he whispered, "I haven't taken anyone to bed since the last time we were together, and I haven't had _nearly_ enough of your body to satisfy me yet. Nothing but my hand and my imagination for all those months on the sea… you have no idea how_ desperate_ it makes a man. Oh, and how I imagined you… shall I go into detail?"

Francis leaned back into Arthur's chest, baring his neck for the sailor's sharp teeth to nip at his throat. "Go on."

"Mm… I'd imagine bending you over that pretty little table you work at and just fucking you senseless. Or tying you up and having my way with you… yes, that was a favourite for sure. Or having you work me over with a riding crop… you know just how much pain I like, Francis, and I'd _love_ to have you push me to my limits someday."

Francis could feel his cock hardening at the lust just _dripping_ from Arthur's words. The Frenchman couldn't resist him when he got like that, so openly eager for this, his voice low in Francis' ear, his hands roaming his body so possessively, mapping every curve and dip of his skin for the first time in months. It felt so good to have Arthur there with him again; he had missed this kind of lust after so many months without his lover. He hadn't been with anyone since Arthur's last visit, and he admitted as much in a low voice.

Arthur chuckled darkly, his fingertips dancing along the Frenchman's lower abdomen. "Well then, how about we change that?"

Francis groaned, finally just giving in. Arthur pulled away his towel, his hands immediately cupping Francis' arse. "Now _there's_ a sight I missed." Francis just smirked, turning around and resting his hands on Arthur's shoulders, marvelling at the lightly freckled skin. He unwound Arthur's towel, kissing the Englishman's cheek sweetly before gripping his cock.

"Shall we go to bed?"

"Lead the way."

Francis pulled back the blankets on his bed, reaching underneath the mattress to fetch a bottle of oil. One of his own products, a very lightly scented oil that he kept for… personal use. A very different kind of French perfume than he normally made. He uncorked it and passed the bottle to Arthur. "Show me how you want me, _cher._"

Arthur sat in the middle of the bed and pulled Francis into his lap, his chest against the Francis' back and hands tight around the Frenchman's waist, his lips again finding themselves at the nape of Francis' neck. He kissed along his lover's back, murmuring, "Just like this. I want to feel you properly."

He drizzled the oil over his fingers, working one into Francis slowly, gently. He smiled to himself when Francis arched his back into the touch, letting out a whisper of a groan. Francis spread his legs further for his lover, gasping when Arthur's hand ran along his inner thigh, soft, smooth skin dancing along in teasing little patterns, brushing so lightly. "How… how are your hands always so soft?"

Arthur chuckled, nuzzling Francis' neck before murmuring, "I know I've told you this before, but rough hands are not good for this kind of gentle touching. You of all people should know that. I only take my gloves off to write, bathe, and eat. Well, that and when I stroke myself off, wishing it was you." Arthur had stopped moving his finger, so Francis rocked back against it, reminding him of what he was doing.

The captain smirked against Francis' shoulder and resumed working him open carefully. He slid another finger inside and Francis couldn't help but gasp when it brushed against his sweet spot. He leaned back into Arthur's chest and let his eyes flutter, whispering, "Mmh… there."

"What, here?" Arthur pressed his fingers right against _that_ spot, and the wave of pleasure that rolled over Francis nearly had him crying out. He moaned, unable to hold his voice back when that sweet, sweet pleasure was still flowing through him. He had missed this in the long months of Arthur's absence, simply unable to give himself the same kind of ecstasy.

Arthur waited until Francis had relaxed again, no longer holding himself back from squirming at the unbearable, wonderful feeling. He pressed a kiss to the back of Francis' head. "Are you ready for me, love?"

Francis nodded, not trusting his voice while Arthur's fingers were still stroking his insides in the most gentle, terribly arousing way. He still groaned in disappointment, though, when Arthur pulled his fingers out, glancing back over his shoulder to see the Englishman looking at him with unmasked hunger in his half-lidded eyes, his cheeks flushed with arousal and his member rock-hard.

Arthur drizzled more of the oil on himself, guiding Francis' hand to spread it over him. "Nnh… there we go. I hope you're truly ready, because I won't hold back tonight. It's been far too long."

"I won't hold back either," Francis murmured, letting his fingertips dance along the head of Arthur's erection and smiling devilishly when the Englishman's hips bucked slightly. Arthur groaned softly, pulling Francis into his lap properly and sliding his hands under the Frenchman's thighs. He lifted Francis up, sliding his cock in between the globes of Francis' arse and pressing the head against his entrance. Francis bit his lip at the feeling of Arthur pushing inside of him, one of his hands flying to grip at Arthur's leg and the other sliding around his lover's neck, pulling him into a kiss as Arthur sunk deep inside of him.

Arthur moaned against Francis' lips, marvelling at just how hot and _tight_ Francis was inside. The man was always unfairly attractive as it was, but when he was flushed and panting and it was all because of Arthur, all for Arthur… it was almost too much. And when Francis was all around him, his lips pressed against Arthur's, his back pressed so closely to Arthur's that the Englishman could feel him tremble, his hands clinging to Arthur as he adjusted to the girth of the sailor's member inside of him, his inner walls _so_ tight and _so_ smooth and _such utter heaven_ after months of solitude… Arthur needed him to be ready for more, and fast.

Sitting there, just waiting to sate his lust, he couldn't hold on any longer.

Francis was ready mercifully quickly, however, and soon pressed a kiss to Arthur's neck. "Move."

Arthur obliged, lifting Francis back up and slamming him back down, thrusting up at the same time, his eyelids fluttering both at the simply perfect feeling of his lover around him and at the breathy moan that tore itself from Francis' throat. The Frenchman began to move his hips up and down with Arthur's movements, and they quickly began a fast, deep pace that had raw pleasure flowing through both of them, overloading their senses to the point of madness.

But they both needed more, they couldn't stop just there. Francis leaned his head back, gasping for breath, and moaned when Arthur's teeth latched onto his neck, nipping sharply before releasing him, his tongue laving over the bite. His thrusts grew harsher, faster, and Francis could do little more than just groan and grip helplessly at his lover's arms and neck, holding himself back from reaching that peak for as long as he possibly could.

One of Arthur's hands slipped forward, gripping Francis' cock and pumping it in time with his thrusts. Francis could feel himself trembling, unable to stop it. Arthur's lips were at his ear suddenly, and the sailor whispered, "Just let it go, Francis." His voice was so low and husky, and Francis moaned, feeling his member pulse in Arthur's hand. Arthur moaned into Francis' neck at that as well, and the sound resonated from the nape of the Frenchman's neck to his ear, a soft, lust-filled sound that made him clench involuntarily around Arthur, the pleasure in his veins finally reaching a point over overflowing.

He cried out as he reached his climax, his release pulsing out over Arthur's hand and onto the bed. Arthur thrust into him a few more times before pushing in as deep as he could and spilling himself inside of Francis, the warmth making the Frenchman's eyes slip shut for a moment, the aftereffects of his orgasm still pumping through his veins.

Arthur leaned his forehead against the Frenchman's back as he caught his breath, placing a series of kissing along his lover's spine. Francis turned his head to the side, pulling Arthur's face up and kissing him, needing to feel the sailor's lips on his own for some reason he couldn't quite figure out. He slid his hands into Arthur's hair, not bothering to deepen the kiss as he ran his hands through the still-damp locks. When they both finally had to breathe, they broke apart.

Arthur wrapped his arms around Francis' waist and lay down, rolling onto his side and somehow managing to keep his softened member inside of Francis the whole time. "I think," he murmured, "It's high time we try to get some sleep."

"If you say so," Francis replied. "You're the one who has to leave tomorrow."

The Englishman sighed, burying his face into Francis' neck and breathing in deep. "And how I wish that wasn't the case."

Francis laid a hand on Arthur's arm. "If I could keep you here with me, I would."

"And if I could take you out to sea with me, I would."

Arthur knew damn well that Francis couldn't leave his work. The Frenchman just wasn't a man of the sea; he needed the rich colours and scents of the land to be happy. And Francis knew that Arthur couldn't stay rooted in one place for too long. He felt drawn to the open waters of the ocean. They respected each other for that, and perhaps it was a good thing they could never truly be by each other's side. Their relationship would not be looked upon with kind eyes, and these secret visits whenever Arthur stopped by were risky enough. When the sailor actually had time off, more than just a day or two between journeys, he would stay in the village, but never actually _with_ Francis, lest someone see them together and jump to conclusions.

He sighed again, pulling Francis closer to him, and the Frenchman shifted a little. "Would you like me to hold you?"

Arthur would never ask for it, always too proud. But he nodded, and Francis had to smile. If Arthur wasn't scoffing and protesting, that meant he really wanted it. The sailor pulled out of Francis, rolling over onto his other side and waiting for his lover to take him into his arms. When he felt the warmth of Francis' chest against his back, he relaxed. He hadn't realised how tense he was until then, and Francis let out a small laugh.

"Relax, _cher. _There's no need to be so tense." Francis' hand stroked up and down Arthur's side. "Let yourself unwind a little. You're here with me for tonight, don't think about anything." The Frenchman pulled the blankets over them, quickly resuming his position curled around Arthur's body. "Unless there's something you aren't telling me, you have no reason to worry."

Arthur sighed, tilting his head back and kissing Francis on the cheek. "I don't know when I'll be coming back next. When we get back to England, I'm sure the queen will have somewhere else to send us. I can only hope it won't be one of those year-long voyages."

Francis nuzzled Arthur lightly. "…and?"

"I wish we had more time together. I always worry I'll come by one day and you'll have forgotten me."

Francis shook his head. "I think we've been doing this far too long for that to happen. Do you remember when we first met?"'

"All too well. You grabbed my arse before even getting my name."

"And you didn't complain. But my point is, back then, we were both just apprentices. You were nothing more than a sailor-in-training, and I was still learning the basics of perfuming. Now we are both masters of our craft, and we have spent too many nights together for me to forget _anything_ about you."

Arthur's hand travelled up to his shoulder, and he traced his scar lightly. "You noticed this."

"Of course I did." Francis pressed a kiss to the scar. "You're not the only one who waits in long anticipation for these visits. Getting letters from you is sometimes the only thing that keeps me going during the long winters."

"And I count the days until I can see you again." Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "We're a right mess, aren't we?"

"But of course we are, _mon cher_. Love does that to you."

Arthur closed his eyes. "I know. Francis?"

"Yes? What is it?"

"I'm cold."

Francis pulled Arthur closer, until their bodies were right against each other. "If this isn't enough, roll over. This is as close as I can get."

Arthur rolled over, moving closer to Francis and laying a hand on the back on the Frenchman's neck. He kissed Francis gently, moving against his lover so their bare members brushed together. Francis' hips moved forward against Arthur's almost involuntarily, and he smiled into the kiss.

He pulled away for a moment, his eyelids dropping to half-mast. "You haven't had enough yet, have you?"

"Can you blame me? I've missed you. All of you."

"As I've missed you. But _mon amour_, aren't you at all tired?"

"A bit. That's why I'd like you to take charge."

"I see." Francis smiled, brushing Arthur's hair out of his face. "Shall I go slowly for you?"

"If that's what you want."

Francis laughed softly. "Don't be shy. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. If you don't, I won't know what to do for you."

"Now that's a lie. You know exactly what to do."

"Mm… true. But maybe I just like hearing you say it."

"Fine, if it'll make you happy…" Arthur rolled his eyes and kissed the skin right below Francis' ear, murmuring, "Make love to me, Francis. I want to feel all of you."

Francis felt his cock stiffening again at those words, and he let out a quiet groan. "Nnh… of course I will." He pulled one of Arthur's legs over his hip, letting his hand ghost over the swell of the Englishman's arse. His other hand picked up the bottle of oil, and he saw Arthur's eyes widen in anticipation when he drizzled some onto his fingers. Arthur rocked his hips forward, rubbing himself against Francis. The Frenchman smirked, rutting back against the sailor. "Patience, _mon_ Arthur… we're going slowly, remember?"

He brought his hand around, just rubbing small circles around Arthur's entrance, watching his lover's face, how Arthur bit his lip, how his eyes would flutter just a bit, how his muscles would tense in anticipation until he was almost trembling, just waiting for Francis to slip a finger inside. When Francis finally did, he barely pushed it in at all, just resting there until Arthur tentatively rocked his hips down onto it. Francis smiled, sliding it in a little further, searching for that one spot, and waiting for the moan he knew would reverberate through Arthur's chest when he found it. He captured Arthur's lips for a kiss until he heard it, and then moved his head back. "I'll keep going, I promise, but just go along with what I do, all right?"

Arthur nodded, feeling utterly vulnerable with Francis touching him in such a way, his eyes roaming over the sailor's body unabashedly. But he knew it was all right. Francis was the only one allowed to touch him like this, the only one allowed to make him lose control until he could do little more than moan and gasp broken versions of the Frenchman's name. He wasn't there yet, but he could tell by the look in Francis' eyes that he thoroughly intended to get Arthur to that point.

Francis pressed another finger inside of him, carefully working him open, and Arthur leaned his forehead on Francis' shoulder, stifling his gasps against the Frenchman's smooth skin. Francis used his free hand to tilt Arthur's chin up, shaking his head a little and whispering, "I want to see you, Arthur. I want to hear you while I do this."

Just then, Francis' fingers pressed directly on _that_ spot, rubbing against it over and over, Arthur's hips jerked forward. He moaned, tilting his head to the side and letting Francis attack his neck with kisses. "Please, I need more."

"Very well." Francis pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the bedsheets. He hitched Arthur's leg over his hip properly, spreading more oil on his erection and then guiding himself to press against Arthur's entrance. Arthur moved his hips down against Francis, biting his lips when the head slid inside.

Francis groaned softly, laying a hand on Arthur's hip and slowly pressing himself in deeper, kissing his lover's throat and waiting for him to adjust. Arthur waited until he was sure he was ready before nodding and wrapping his arms around Francis' neck. The Frenchman was a caring lover, but when he got consumed by lust, he wouldn't hold back. Not that Arthur would ever want him to.

The Frenchman pulled his hips back and snapped them forward, leaning in and nipping Arthur's lower lip. He slowly sped up his thrusts, making Arthur's breath catch in hiccupping gasps in his throat, each rock of his hips rubbing his cock against that magical spot inside of Arthur. Francis could feel his eyes trying to slip shut, but he forced them open, wanting to see the flush of lust spread over Arthur's cheeks, his muscles tensing beautifully as he leaned his head back, his hips backing back against Francis in perfect time.

Francis nipped his neck lightly, and Arthur's nails dug into the Frenchman's shoulders. "Ahn… yes. Francis, please…"

"Please what, _mon amour?"_

"Mark me. Show that—nnh... show everyone that I'm taken."

"Are you sure?"

"_Fuck_ yes," Arthur nearly hissed. "Do it."

Francis didn't need any more encouragement after that. He latched onto Arthur's neck and bit him fiercely, then sucked the spot gently and laved his tongue over the bite until Arthur moaned, a hand tangling in Francis' hair. The Frenchman thrust harder in response, moving his head back up to kiss Arthur slowly and sweetly, a sharp contrast from the ferocity of his bite and the fast rhythm with which he drove himself into Arthur, over and over.

Arthur could feel himself starting to tip over that edge of pleasure, and he tried to hold on, the waves that rolled over with each thrust beginning to touch on pain, it was just that overwhelming, that unbearable.

He met Francis' eyes to find that the Frenchman was holding him, watching him like he was the most precious thing in the world. His blue eyes were trained on Arthur's face, his hands roaming the sailor's body, stroking every bit of skin he could reach. It was too much, and before Arthur could wrap his head around the incredible sensation, he was coming, his back arching and his hands grasping for purchase on Arthur's shoulders as he shot spurts of white over the two of them.

Francis moaned at the sight, Arthur's head tipped back and his mouth open in a gasp of Francis' name, his muscles contracting as he trembled in the grip of his climax. He got so _tight_ around Francis, and the heat and pleasure of it all had the Frenchman snapping his hips forward one more and releasing, spilling himself inside of Arthur. And the feeling was glorious, ecstasy rolling him until he could barely breathe.

Arthur kissed him, shaking slightly in the aftermath of the pleasure. Francis could do little more than kiss back and hold onto him tightly, knowing that this was the last time he would be able to hold Arthur close for quite some time. But sleep was calling, and his eyelids grew heavy. Arthur was struggling to a stay awake as well, but he managed to brush Francis' hair out of his eyes and murmur, "I love you."

Francis pulled him even closer, pressing a kiss to the sailor's forehead. "As I love you."

They drifted off together, exhausted and full of a very bittersweet happiness.

…

Arthur woke up the next morning to a hand on his shoulder and a pair of lips on his own. He kissed back, knowing without looking that it was Francis. When he broke away from the kiss and sat up, Francis passed him his clothes. "They're dry now."

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Arthur dressed himself and looked outside the window of the small house to see a few stacks of wooden crates. He pointed and asked, "Are those for me to take?"

"Of course. I had my apprentice set it up for me. He's a good boy, if a little shy sometimes. He'll take it down to the harbor soon, don't worry."

"Good."

Francis passed Arthur a plate laden with food. "Eat. Get something in your stomach before you have to go."

"Thank you." Arthur hated this part, the minutes before they would have to say goodbye and go their separate ways again. It seemed unfair, and no matter how many years passed, it always felt that way. There was always a sad, tense silence between them that they couldn't change. They could attempt to talk idly, but it never worked. This morning was no different as Arthur finished his breakfast and set his hat on his head. "Well, I'd best be going soon."

"I know." Francis obviously wasn't pleased about this either.

Arthur pulled Francis to him, kissing his forehead tenderly. "I'll write to you, and that's a promise."

"I will write to you as well."

"And will you stay true to me?"

"As you will stay true to me."

"Thank you," Arthur whispered, and Francis smiled.

"There's no need to thank me for something so simple, _mon amour._"

"Of course there is." Arthur sighed, looking out the window. "But I really must get going."

"I know." Francis pulled away from him. Now that was not so normal. "Wait just one moment."

He walked over to his trunk, pulling out a small, ornate box. He passed it to Arthur, who traced the carvings on it with his finger before opening it and finding a bottle of perfume inside. "For the queen, I presume?"

"You couldn't be more wrong, _cher_."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes. It's for you."

"Oh." Arthur picked the bottle up gently, and inspected it. "Quite a bit darker in colour than most of yours."

"Well, I did make it specially for you."

Arthur smiled. For Francis, ever the perfectionist in his work, going out of his way to make someone a gift like this was incredible. "Thank you, love. Should I test it?"

"If you like."

Arthur nodded, taking the glass stopper out and rubbing a single drop of the dark golden liquid onto his wrist. Right away, he noticed something, and he smiled. "Tea, obviously. And… cinnamon and chocolate, I believe."

"Yes."

"A hint of musk, I can tell. And then there's something else… it's darker, but I can't tell what it is."

"A secret ingredient, _cher._" Francis smiled. "But you are quite right. I have taught you well."

"Well, you're an excellent teacher." Arthur put the bottle away and kissed Francis. "And for a gift like this, I only wish I had something to give you in return."

"No, that's not-"

"It's absolutely necessary. How long did you spend on this, Francis? A year? Two years?"

"Yes, but… I don't need you to give me anything."

Arthur sighed. "The next time I see you, I promise I'll have something."

Francis smiled, pulling Arthur close. "If that's what you want." He kissed him quickly. "I love you. Now go, before your men start to wonder where you are."

"I love you too. And I promise I'll be back as soon as I can. And I _will_ have something for you."

"I know." They kissed again before Arthur went to the door, casting a longing glance back at Francis, who wanted to just pull him back and keep him there forever. But he couldn't, and instead he let his lover go, watching him leave from the window.

Although Arthur didn't know it, he was carrying more than just a bottle of perfume in that little box. Francis had added a few drops of his own blood into the mix, which changed the scent into something much more suitable to Arthur. But it held a dual purpose: now, no matter where Arthur would go, he would always have a little bit of Francis with him. The Frenchman sighed, sitting down at his work table. Saying goodbye was always difficult, but this time it wasn't too bad.

At that moment, Arthur was boarding the ship. He went straight down to his chambers to lock the box away for safekeeping, and had just closed his trunk when his first mate appeared in the doorway to his room. "Captain, are we ready to go?"

"If all the men are on bed, then set sail. We have no reason to tarry here any longer."'

But he still went up to the deck, looking out at the small port as they sailed away, staring out over the water until it was long out of sight. He would have to wait impatiently for the next time he could return there, to that quaint little village that meant much more to him than his own hometown. He sighed, heading back below deck.

Arthur would be counting the days until he saw Francis again, and he could only hope it wouldn't be too long.

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_


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